


Mildly drunk and Fancy Free

by shadowkeeper



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 06:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13048230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowkeeper/pseuds/shadowkeeper
Summary: Designated Asshole, Elective Drunk





	Mildly drunk and Fancy Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nonesane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonesane/gifts).



> Hey! So, this is your main yuletide assignment writer. We actually sort-of matched up on half your requested fandoms. I realized I couldn't match your character requests for this one as I have no read or thoughts on one of then, but the way you discussed this character in your letter really just made me want to explore something. Hope that's all right with you!

It’s quiet at the Royal-- late enough in the evening that most of the drunks have passed out or have staggered off somewhere else; early enough that the morning shift of alcoholics haven’t woken up yet to start in on the day drinking. There’s a blissful stretch of time when no one’s around to wander up and start slurred incoherent conversations with anyone not willing to walk away. Not that people are coming up to chat with Fancy a lot. Especially these days. Even the drunk ones seem to know to avoid him.

Now that the bar’s mostly emptied out, Fancy picks himself up from the table he’d parked himself at- the one in the darkest corner Pree maintains for atmosphere- and pulls himself up onto the main bar. Closer to the brick shithouse of a bartender for faster refills. Fancy’s committed enough to maintaining his mood and emptying as many glasses as he can that it takes him way longer than it should a level 5 to realize someone’s staring at him.

Fancy sets down his glass on the bar- gently enough not to lose any of his drink, and blinks away some of the alcohol haze to lock onto a shiny bald head.  
It takes Fancy a moment to actually focus enough on Pree, a safe distance away at the other end of the bar, leaning on his forearms and blinking exaggeratedly at Fancy, flirtily playing with the rag he’d been using to wipe down the bar.

Fancy locks eyes with Pree and dead-stares back, slowly blinking, drawing on a lifetime of experience of being an expressionless asshole with a resting ‘bitch please’ face.

It takes a good long minute before Pree finally breaks first and laughs, dropping the dopey act and standing up straight to refill Fancy’s glass himself.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you around these parts.”  
Non-pushy, casual, friendly like he always is, and dammit Fancy just wants to be left alone with as much brain-numbing hooch he can knock back before it incapacitates him. But Pree is fucking impossible to ignore, and his secret power of getting people to open up to him and blabbing all their sorrows and secrets must have been killer back when he was warlording it around the system.

Fancy tries holding out as long as he can by downing his glass- maybe Pree’ll get bored and walk away. But he finally gives in, as everyone does, in the face of Pree’s friendly expression and steel force of personality.

“Hullen me apparently kept me sober.”

Pree tuts sympathetically.  
“Honey, if you’re trying to make up for lost time, you’ve come to the right place. Just let Mama Pree take care of you.”

Fancy groans and puts his head down on the sticky bar, maybe wanting the world to disappear around him, maybe not. Pree does the best thing a human could do for Fancy at the moment by topping up Fancy’s glass again.

“Drinasdnaksdn.”  
Even Fancy can’t understand what just come out of his mouth, so he lifts his head, looks Pree with his stupidly open expression, and grits out a, “Drinking’s the only difference.”

Pree still looks like he doesn’t understand what Fancy’s saying, so Fancy scowls, hating that he wants Pree to understand.  
“I get taken over by alien green goo, and the only thing different about me is that I drank less, fucked less, and ate more vegetables. Evil me is just me with better habits. _Fuck_ hullen me.”  
He downs his drink again.

“Hm.” Pree leans back down onto the bar, face close enough to Fancy’s they can study each other’s wrinkles, and meets Fancy’s glare casually.

“Well. That’s not true. Evil you was also missing that tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny, _tiny_ part of you that doesn’t mind keeping some of us around and saving our asses from time to time. Evil you tried killing your friends.”

Fancy doesn’t look away, and lets Pree smile his sunny smile at him.

“When you were green goo you, did you feel any different?”

Fancy shrugs- he could say ‘not really’ even though the answer’s more along the no end of the sliding scale.  
“Some of the murder felt more satisfying?”

Pree just laughs at him because Pree doesn’t hide the fact that he also sometimes enjoys a bit of murder. It’s why Fancy doesn’t hate him and keeps Pree off his ‘wouldn’t mind murdering in a bad mood’ list.

“So what if you’re basically the worst version of yourself. I bet some asshole part of you finds that funny.”  
Fancy shrugs again, doesn’t want to bother agreeing or denying.

“So. Are you mad that you’re not mad about being taken over by green goo? Or are you mad about the mind control?”  
Fancy lets the alcohol do the answering for him.  
“Hey man. I just wanna get drunk.”

Pree’s sunny disposition doesn’t waver for a second as he reaches over to pat Fancy’s arm, utterly unintimidated by Fancy’s murderous glare at the gesture, and straightens up.

“Well honey, I’ll just keep them coming. I’ll give you a discount if you take care of that lout in the corner.”

Fancy leans over, twisting his head to look over his shoulder, and there’s a belligerent drunk swearing at some empty tables and kicking at chairs. Even with a dozen drinks in him, it’ll take no effort for Fancy to toss the guy out the door.

Fancy leavers himself to his feet and goes to deal with the idiot. He comes back to his seat, empty glasses cleared away, fresh drink waiting, and he knocks it all back in a breath.


End file.
